| He never talked about it yet it remained and the emotion of it, again betrayed | |
| How could he hold his head high? | |
| He never talked about it again | |
| He said, let yourself be born again | |
| He said, all you were is all you'll be | |
| He couldn't live without it before the rain | |
| There's not regret about it | |
| While in the fray | |
| He took a spoonful of pain | |
| He didn't think about it, he said | |
| You'll go your own way | |
| First Sunday of | |
| September | |
| On this great day |
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